Trying: A Memoir by Chloe Caldwell – A Journey Through Uncertainty and Self-Discovery
When I first learned about Trying: A Memoir by Chloe Caldwell, I was instantly drawn in by its premise. A raw exploration of age, infertility, and the myriad ways we try to navigate our identities in a world filled with societal expectations? Yes, please! Thanks to NetGalley and especially Graywolf Press for providing me with an advanced digital copy. This precious little memoir is set to release on August 5th, 2025, and trust me when I say, you’ll want to mark your calendars.
Upon diving into the book, I devoured it faster than I thought possible. Caldwell’s memoir unfolds like a collection of sharp, sometimes comedic, and often heartbreaking vignettes that tug you deeper into her world with each page. What begins as a discussion about the all-consuming struggles with infertility evolves into a profound exploration of shifting identity, queerness, grief, and consumerism. Caldwell bravely interrogates the narratives society imposes, particularly on those with uteruses, presenting a perspective that is both urgent and deeply human.
The book delicately challenges cultural expectations surrounding motherhood and how not wanting—or being unable—to have children is often framed as a failure. Caldwell tackles the discomfort surrounding this subject with grace. Her reflections on heteronormativity within the fertility industry were both enlightening and infuriating, particularly her observations on how queer couples are sidelined in discussions about infertility treatments. There’s a keen critique here that made me realize how subtly embedded these societal pressures can be in our lives.
What I found especially brilliant was Caldwell’s metaphor about "life-changing pants." They’re marketed as inclusive, but ultimately don’t fit everyone—a striking analogy for the one-size-fits-all mentality that permeates not just the fertility industry but life itself. Her prose captures the essence of the pain and frustration that comes with being caught in a system that claims to care yet often feels more concerned with consumerism than genuine compassion.
As the memoir unfolds, a rupture emerges—a recounting of infidelity and divorce that upends everything Caldwell thought she knew about herself. The narrative shifts in such a poignant way, illustrating her journey toward autonomy. The title Trying remains fitting, as she continues to seek understanding and reclaim lost parts of her identity. It’s a raw and honest exploration that resonates deeply, particularly when Caldwell shares the awkward struggle of feeling genuine happiness for others while grappling with one’s own grief.
Caldwell’s details are delightful and rich, with references to pop culture that ground her experiences and add layers to her reflections. The writing is clean yet sharp; it simmers with emotion without ever becoming overly sentimental. This is where Caldwell truly excels—her ability to tell the truth without moralizing, inviting us to sit with the messiness of life.
The fragmented, vignette-driven format won’t be for everyone, but I found it perfectly suited for a subject that is anything but linear. Trying doesn’t offer neat resolutions; it instead invites you into the uncertainty and chaos of what it means to be human. For anyone who has ever felt like they were rewriting their life mid-sentence, this memoir will provide the comfort of being seen.
I wholeheartedly recommend Trying to anyone interested in a thoughtful and candid exploration of identity, the complexities of modern womanhood, and the myriad ways we navigate the challenges life throws our way. It’s a memoir that will stay with you long after you close the book, challenging you to reflect on your own experiences with loss, longing, and the endless quest for meaning.
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